One of the hardest parts about writing Gyeosunim, the sequel to Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary, is that I'm working with three separate timelines and I'm trying to make them fit, so that they make sense. One of the storylines, which is set in 1988, seems to be the most difficult to work in because it's a separate story: it fits in because Roland is remembering a stressful time before the accident that the readers learned about in the first novel.
One of the loose ends that I left in Songsaengnim happens when the main character, Roland Axam, talks to his friends about his previous career. I talk about it, and then don't bring it back. In Gyeosunim, I come back to it. As I've mentioned in previous blog posts, Roland Axam is one of my longest-running characters in my fiction, having been written about in lots of short stories and in a spy trilogy. All of that work has been lost over the past 30 years but I haven't forgotten it. In my new novel, Roland reflects on the year 1988 and how it changed his life, just as the accident of 1995 changed his life, and his experiences in Korea, in 1998 deeply affected him.
A third time line, in 2019, brings Roland back to Korea to tie up some other loose ends. It's always unfinished business with Roland.
A couple of months ago, I shared an excerpt from the prologue to Gyeosunim, which was unfinished until last week. I had wanted to introduce all three timelines, but didn't know how I wanted to include the 1988 timeline. Now, I have.
The prelude begins with a storm that is threatening to blow in on Roland. It now ends with a fully raging storm. Here's the rough draft:
Friday, June 3, 1988
The storm was upon us and there was nowhere to go. Nowhere but down, and that was not an appealing option.
Near-total darkness, save for the blinding flashes of lightning that offered only snapshots of the battlement and the man in front of me, his arm outstretched, the gun glinting in the torrent of rain. The wind was fierce, too, coming in pounding blasts: this was no place to be. At any moment, either of us could be swept over the side. He, over the wall and down more than 15 metres, into the grassy trench that ran from cliff edge to cliff edge, like an empty moat. Me, off the end of the battlement, down the sheer cliff, and onto the jagged rocks below, a drop of about three times as far and much more deadly as what could befall my assailant.
I had been born in North Berwick. It now appeared that I would die here, too. At Tantallon Castle, my favourite landmark of the whole area.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, “you don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, on the contrary, I have no choice but to do this. You see, neither of us should be here. We should be in Berlin. You’re supposed to be in the East. I’m trying to get you back to the West.” Another flash of lightning. He was still standing about five metres from me. “I’m afraid I’m going to fail in bringing you back.”
“But how will you explain my body turning up in Scotland? In my hometown, no less.”
“By the time they find your unidentifiable body, there will be no ties to me. Everyone will think you’re in East Berlin. Now, slowly, with your hands where I can see them, move toward me.”
“I don’t think so. If you’re going to kill me, I’m not going to make it easy for you to dispose of my remains.” I could see just behind my assailant the dimmed headlights of a car pulling up near the outer gate before the castle. With the wind and rain, the sound of its engine was inaudible. It had taken them long enough. The man in front of me hadn’t noticed what was going on behind him. He was focused on me.
“Foolish. Yes, you can make it difficult for me but the result is the same. You’ll still be dead. Goodbye, Roland.”
The lightning must have struck the castle. Everything went painfully white and I was temporarily blinded. The gale-force wind struck the battlement at the same time that the thunder pounded my ears. I had to shift my feet to maintain my balance, as did the man with the gun. A second flash and crack immediately followed, but it wasn’t another lightning strike. I felt the blow against my chest as I saw the gunman lose balance and fall over the battlement. I dropped to my knees and then fell forward, onto my face, when everything went black.
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